


ready, aim, fire

by endlessnighttimesky



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic, Early Mornings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hidden Talents, M/M, Mild Angst, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q isn’t quite sure what wakes him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	ready, aim, fire

Q isn’t quite sure what wakes him – doesn’t know if it’s a sound, or maybe just a movement – but something pulls sleep from beneath him, and he tumbles into consciousness, reaching out before he even opens his eyes. He’s a light sleeper, just like James – they have to be, in their line of work.

"James?" he mumbles, just as his hand finds purchase along the curve of a shoulder. Under his thumb, James’ pulse skitters like the heartbeat of a startled animal.

"It’s okay, love," James whispers, but the hand he wraps around Q’s wrist is shaking. "Go back to sleep."

Q doesn’t. Instead, he moves closer, settles stretched along James’ side, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "Bad dream?"

James doesn’t reply, but the kiss he presses to the top of Q’s head is answer enough.

"Want to talk about it?"

James hardly ever does, but Q will keep asking until he tells him to stop. As of yet, he hasn’t.

"Not really," James replies, just as Q expected. He doesn't mind – he knows that it’s hard, and more so James than for most – but sometimes, he can't help but wish that James would let himself be a little more vulnerable, at least here, with him. He knows Q will never judge him, will never see him as weak, but – it's ingrained in him, this... strength, this constant need to protect his loved ones. Too many times, he's failed, and he can't let that happen again. Not with Q. Never with Q.

"Okay," Q says, and snuggles even closer. "What time is it?"

James shifts a little, lifting his head to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. He drops back down with a sigh. "Four in the morning," he says. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Q assures him, because it is. He's no stranger to early mornings, and like this, with James in bed beside him, this one is already better than most. "Are you going in for debriefing today?"

James hums an affirmation. "Not 'til later, though. After lunch, I think."

Q nods, quiet. Under his hand, James' pulse is slowing down. "We're testing today, so I don't need to go in until ten. I can come home for lunch and we'll go back together."

James makes a pleased noise and runs a hand through Q's hair. "That sounds good," he says. "What are you testing?"

Q huffs a laugh against James' neck. "New rifle modifications."

James' draws a breath. "On the AUG?"

"We're expanding the palm-print technology," Q says, and doesn't mention that James sounds exactly like an eight-year-old on Christmas morning. "If I remember correctly, one of them might even be encoded to yours."

"Well, aren't you just a dream come true," mumbles James, and holds Q just a little closer. "I am a lucky, lucky man."

"We're trying some new sights, too," Q tells him. "And a couple of magazines, I think."

"Oh, now you're just being filthy," James says, rolling Q over onto his back. " _Please_ , don't stop."

Q grins and curls an arm around the back of James' neck, scratching the short hairs at the base of skull. "I was planning on doing most of the testing myself," he says, "but I suppose I could use a good marksman to help me out."

"Good?" James leans down and nips at Q's jaw. "I'm the _best_."

"Out of the field agents," Q reminds him gently.

James looks at him through narrow eyes. "What's your score?"

"Is that doubt in your voice, 007, or just fear?"

James lowers his head again, but this time, he forgoes the careful nipping from earlier and just _bites_. "Tell me your score."

Q squirms beneath him. "What do I get in return?" he asks, breathless, and not caring at all.

"Anything you want," James replies, and starts soothing the bites with wet laps of his tongue. "Tell me."

Q mumbles something inaudible.

"A little louder, love," James murmurs against his skin. Q shivers.

"Ninety-seven," he says, and promptly buries his face in the pillow.

" _Ninety-seven_?" James is pretty sure that’s the highest score anyone’s ever gotten, and with a bloody good margin, too. "Why didn’t you _tell_ me?"

"It never came up!" When he looks at James again, it’s with a light blush coloring his cheeks. "And it’s not like it matters, anyway."

James can’t do anything else but _stare_. "You score a _ninety-seven_ on your marksmanship exam and you think it _doesn’t_ _matter_?"

"Well, it doesn’t, does it?" Q says, and there’s a sharpness to his gaze that claws at the inside of James’ chest.

"Of course it bloody well matters," he says, and bends down to kiss the edge out of Q’s eyes, cupping his face in both hands and feeling him melt into the mattress. Even after they break apart, he keeps tracing Q’s cheekbones with his thumbs. " _You_ matter."

To me, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to, because Q hears it, clear as day, and the blush that had just started to fade from his cheeks returns in full force. The way James is looking at him sends tremors down his spine, all the way out into his fingertips.

For a moment, Q has to close his eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of affection he sees in James’ eyes – the amount of _love_. He’s not entirely sure what to do with it all, but he doesn’t doubt that James will help him figure it out.


End file.
